Out of the Refuge
by Emador
Summary: Just a one-shot about one of the newsies enduring the Refuge. [repost; originally published summer 2015]


_Author's Note: I wrote this story in the summer of 2015, but had subsequently taken it down when I found out there had been other sites mirroring . Luckily that has passed, and I will be reposting all of my old stories! My apologies to my followers who will be bombarded with "New Story/Chapter" alerts. Enjoy!_

* * *

Time had made him bitter and cynical, but he was never those things around her. When they walked down the street together, he couldn't help but smile. The way she smiled at him. The way her hand fit perfectly into his. When they were together, he was happy. When they were together, he was full of hope about the future.

"What do you think about headin' down to Coney Island after you sell out today?" she asked.

They had no money. They wouldn't be able to do anything but watch the people and enjoy the ocean. He didn't want to take the long trolley ride. He didn't want to face the crowds.

But he knew it made her happy.

"Sure," he smirked. "It's a date."

She grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll meet you at Tibby's later."

He grinned as he watched her walk away, his cheek still tingling from where her lips had touched.

* * *

He never made it to Tibby's. He had just sold his last pape and was counting his money, when he absently stole an apple off a cart. He'd done it so many times, he knew exactly how to approach and where to grab so no one would see him. Except some one did see him. Within seconds, Snyder and a cop were on him, dragging him to the wagon.

He sighed and hit the back of his head on the bars of the wagon out of frustration.

* * *

Two months. Two months for stealing a lousy apple. Court was a joke. Snyder made up some trumped up charges about previous escapes and unfulfilled sentences.

That would be two months without seeing her. Without seeing her smile. Without holding her hand. Without hearing his name on her lips. Spending two months without her was worse than two months worth of beatings from the guards.

He closed his eyes, wishing he could sleep his sentence away. He closed his eyes, thinking about her. Thoughts of her would be the only thing getting him through the next two months. He thought about going to Coney Island with her, his pockets full of cash to spend on her. He thought about walking down the street with her, just the two of them. He thought about the way he felt when he made her laugh. The way she felt in his arms. The way she had that special smile, just for him, even when they locked eyes from across a crowded Tibby's. The way she could ignore every guy in a room, except for him.

* * *

The last night in the Refuge was always the worse. Sometimes boys attempted to escape to get longer sentences just to put off that last night. That last night in the refuge, the guards would always gang up on the soon-to-be free man. He'd walk out of the refuge the next morning free and clear, but bruised and bloodied. He never shied away from the last night beating. He always stood up straight, smirked at the guards and said, "Do your worst."

* * *

The next morning, he limped out of the refuge. His left eye was swollen shut, and the other one was purple. Blood had dried on his upper lip, and he was certain he had at least one cracked rib. But he was free. He stuck to side streets to avoid seeing anyone he knew. He limped his way to her building. He knew she would be coming home from the grocer's around this time. He slipped into the alley next to her building and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. He saw her pass by and stepped out of the alley just enough.

"Hey," he said.

She turned and gasped. "You're out!" She dropped her groceries and rushed to him. "They really did a number on you this time."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Come on up," she said softly. "Mama and Papa aren't home. You can stay on our roof for a couple nights."

He gave her a smile, grateful he didn't have to explain anything to her. She just knew. This wasn't the first time he'd gone to the Refuge, and it wouldn't be the last. But he was thankful he had somewhere to go to let the physical bruises and emotional scars heal before heading back to the lodging house.


End file.
